


One Hundred Years of Solitude (In the Desert)

by undun



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: M/M, barely there slash, postscript to prequel trilogy, prequel to original Star Wars, slash in spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy had a desert to grow up in. Just like his father.</p><p>This is a repost due to my magnificent stupidity involving an index finger, painkillers and a very long blink. Sorry for the spam, fandom list and subscribers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hundred Years of Solitude (In the Desert)

**Author's Note:**

> I have been archiving a few old fics that I had forgotten about in my obsession with all things Sherlock in recent years. This is my one and only Star Wars fic.

At last he could rest. The boy had been handed over to his uncle, the baby girl now on Alderaan – both safe for the present, and hopefully unnoticed for a good long time. He smiled at the memory of Bail Organa’s expression as he took Leia into his arms. The adoration had shone so brightly in his eyes. The babe was likely to be handful if her parents were anything to judge by; headstrong and wilful.

 

And the boy… The boy had a desert to grow up in. Just like his father. Obi-wan’s heart gave another one of those unpleasant clenches. He had noticed them more often as he carved out his cave and gathered supplies to furnish it – now that he had the time to remember. He sat suddenly, knees weak and mind tired, so tired of fighting back against the images that scrolled behind his eyes – images of Anakin as he used to be; laughing, concerned, determined and passionate.

 

_‘Don’t say that, Master – you’re the closest thing I have to a father.’_

 

Obi-wan felt his heart clench again, pain lancing down his left side, but he sat transfixed as he remembered the last time he’d seen Anakin; an unrecognisable _thing_ , crawling, clawing and refusing to die – sustained by hate and the power of the Dark Side. _Such a failure_ , he thought, only dimly aware of the tears trailing down through the dust on his face. _I have failed._

 

**No.**

 

Where had that come from? Obi-wan blinked, pulled from his persistent misery by a familiar feeling, the sense of another’s presence – out here? He tried to turn around, and gave a gasp, barely audible, as the pain around his heart **_squeezed_** … _I’m going to die… out here in the desert, unremarked and unnoticed by anyone_. He almost laughed at the depths of his dilemma.

 

**Always so dramatic. You haven’t changed, my young Padawan.**

 

‘Master!’ Obi-wan felt a joy so very keen that the pain in his chest receded for a second. His mouth opened and closed without a sound; what did one say to one’s deceased master? ‘Are you well?’ he said finally, for lack of anything better. He felt the rich chuckle rumbling through the chambers of his mind.

 

**Quite a sight better than you at present, Obi-wan. Hold still.**

 

‘What?’ Obi-wan attempted to rise and fell forward at the sudden crushing pain in his chest.

 

**Were you not listening, my headstrong young Padawan. Now _hold still_.**

 

Obi-wan spat weakly, attempting to clear his mouth of desert sand. His vision swam and he was sure he was suffocating. He struggled for calm, trying to find his untouchable core of strength and failing in the attempt. _Maybe I don’t really want to find it_ , he thought despairingly, _maybe I don’t want to live_.

 

**Of course you do.**

 

‘No, Master,’ he whispered brokenly, the effort making him retch, _let me die_. And because he so wanted to join his beloved master, he added, _it’s my time_.

 

**And precisely how would you know this?**

 

So sardonic, so very familiar. Slowly at first, then more insistently Qui-gon’s presence filled his mind. Obi-wan welcomed it as a dying man, quite literally, in the desert. _Master, I have missed you for so long!_ He opened his mind wide. Qui-gon’s Force spirit overwhelmed his senses, taking his breath away as he lay wheezing weakly in the sand.

 

**Stop it! It is not your time, Obi-wan. You have work to do.**

 

‘No,’ he objected, his voice a whisper of dust on the wind. _I have failed you, Master. I couldn’t prevent Anakin’s fall. I couldn’t finish what you began._ It was a relief to let loose the sense of utter hopelessness that he’d held at bay for so long, to drift on the tide of his misery and pain. _I can’t go on._

 

**You can go on, and you will go on. I require it of you.**

 

Obi-wan’s heart slowed and steadied. His limbs unclenched and fell loosely about him, relaxed. He blinked, slowly registering the dust motes in the fading sunlight coming through the cave’s skylight. He took a breath, the ease spreading though his lungs. ‘Please, Master, stop this. Let me join you. Let me be with you now.’

 

**I’ve never known you to be a coward, Padawan.**

 

Shame threatened to break through his resolve, but anger came first. ‘I’m not a coward! How could you even suggest it? I’m tired, I have nothing left to give, nothing left to do!’

 

**Nonsense. The boy needs a guide and a guard, and you would rather throw your life away to hide behind my ghost.**

 

The shame swept over him at last. His determination to follow Qui-gon crumbled like a sand hill in a storm. Fresh grief followed, almost as if Qui-gon had been cut down in front of him once more. He rolled onto his back, choking on a sob. _Not again!_ Qui-gon’s essence receded from his mind suddenly, leaving an impression of incredulity in its wake.

 

**Obi-wan, it’s been over twenty years! Why do you feel this pain? Why have you not accepted my fate?**

 

His lips wore a crooked smile _. Can you not sense my feelings, Master? Can you not feel the inappropriate regard I have_ – he stopped, confused for a moment – _I **had** for you?_

 

**Still, what can be done about it? I am beyond such physicality now, and were I alive, as you are now, our Jedi vows would prohibit such a coupling.**

 

‘That didn’t stop Anakin,’ he murmured in response.

 

**His actions led to the death of the one he loved, and alienation from his own offspring. Hardly an outcome that recommends itself to me, and further proof of the wisdom of adhering to the vows.**

 

Obi-wan sighed and eased himself up to a sitting position. Truth was, and still is, that he didn’t need the ‘physicality’ that Qui-gon referred to; he just wanted Qui-gon, whatever his form. ‘I know, Master. I know the risk such entanglements hold for us. But… we are all but extinct. Jedi are an outlawed and hunted order. Master Yoda, the greatest we have, is hiding in a swamp!’ He took some deep breaths, the effort of talking aloud leaving him dizzy. Qui-gon’s presence swept into his mind once more, dilating blood vessels and increasing the oxygen level of his blood.

 

**Slowly, please. Do not undo my work so soon. Speak without your voice for now – I will hear you.**

 

The cave stopped spinning around him and Obi-wan straightened carefully. _I was trying to make the point that the Jedi, at least for foreseeable future, are no longer an order recognised and respected by the Republic, or the Empire as it is now. We have no rallying point, there are no schools; the vows we took are meaningless. We will rot in obscurity, Master Yoda and I._

 

**If you are intimating that you would have yourself free of your vows to seek pleasures of the flesh… Well, I am hardly in a position to dissuade you. Provided, of course, that you undertake to see to the Skywalker boy’s continued existence.**

 

Obi-wan smiled at the mixture of astonishment and amusement evident in his Master’s tone. _I have no use for empty sexual experiences, how could I after the moments I have had communing with you like this? It is better, deeper, and more intimate to me than any mere physical act._

 

He frowned at the silence. He could still feel Qui-gon’s presence; what did this hesitation mean?

 

**This is all you want?**

 

His frown turned to puzzlement. _Yes. Is it so hard to believe?_

 

**What of your more physical needs?**

 

He laughed out loud at the question _. Have you noticed my age, Master? I’m almost the same age as you when you were…_ The sight of Qui-gon’s face, frozen in shock as the Sith’s sabre pierced him through, flashed behind his eyes. _Suffice to say, those needs have waned of late, and are likely to fade even more as the years pass._

 

It seems as if you are planning to stay alive, Obi-wan.

 

 _I suppose that is so, if this frail body will sustain me._ Qui-gon’s soft chuckle tickled along his nerve endings.

 

Oh, I think your frail body is good for a few years yet. I can sustain you.

 

You always have, Master.

 

~~~ ``` ~~~ ``` ~~~

 

**Foolish Padawan! You take too many risks!**

 

Obi-wan groaned as his Master sent healing energy to his injuries; a broken collar bone, a punctured lung and, his uncertain guess, a perforated liver. The Tusken Raiders were a violent lot, and for some reason had a particular dislike for the Jedi. He would not have survived without Qui-gon’s intervention. His lung re-inflated painfully. He groaned again.

 

**Go ahead and feel the pain – I shan’t spare you, it may teach you some caution!**

 

He snorted in amusement. _Listen to you – what does it matter now whether I live or die out here? I least I will be able to join you at last._

 

**Hmmf! You hold your life too cheap. It’s my fault.**

 

‘What?’ The declaration had surprised him enough to give his thought voice. He coughed up blood and mucus.

 

**My presence here causes you to dwell on death. I should leave for a time.**

 

‘No!’ Again he spoke aloud and again he doubled over coughing. _Master, don’t leave me! Never leave me! I would not survive._

 

**That much is obvious!**

 

 _No, not that. I can survive the injuries, or I might survive them_ – he amended, because, truly, he could very well be gasping his last right now if not for Qui-gon – _but… I would not survive the loss of your spirit. Without this_ – he closed his eyes for focus, reaching out to his Master’s presence; it wrapped around his mind like the softest of blankets – _I would most certainly die._

 

**You have become dependant on me.**

 

 _That is stating the **very** obvious_. He smiled as he thought it, his lips cracking in the dry heat.

 

**Insolence, my young Padawan!**

 

The laughter bubbling up through his bloodied lung nearly caused him to faint. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his appearance was that of an elderly man – whitened hair and beard, and an arthritic gait for the most part. Only Qui-gon would refer to him as ‘young’. _Master, I am older than you now. You should let me go next time._

 

**Hah! You admit your recklessness.**

 

Nothing of the sort. Simply living here is a risky proposition, as well you know. All I mean is that you shouldn’t intervene when my time comes.

 

**And you still think that you know when that time will be?**

 

Fate may take that decision out of my hands.

 

**I don’t believe so, Obi-wan.**

 

He turned on his side to ease the ache in his recuperating lung. He frowned at the cryptic statement. _What do you know?_

 

**I know that when you die it will be a clear decision, aimed at attaining a result worthy of your sacrifice.**

 

‘Oh,’ he muttered weakly. It was quite a surprise, the fact that his death might involve the presence of other people. He hadn’t considered the possibility, out here alone for so very long. _I see._

 

**I doubt it. But don’t worry, I will be with you.**

 

 _I knew you would be_ , he smiled and fell into a deep trance, feeling Qui-gon’s presence with every cell of his being.

 

**For now, you must continue to watch over our young charge. Be there for him when he is ready to claim his destiny.**

 

Are you so certain that he will bring balance to the Force? He has shown little sign of it so far. The only thing he seems to share with his father is a talent for piloting small craft.

 

**He remains our best hope for the future.**

 

_It is all just hope, isn’t it?_

 

Yes. Now sleep, my love. Time to heal all those injuries.

 

 _Oh, they’re all healed now_ , he smiled, feeling the peace flowing through his veins. _Every last one of them, thanks to you. Beloved._

 

~~~ ``` ~~~ ``` ~~~

 


End file.
